


Ch-Ch-Chokechain

by MarbleAide



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gang World AU, M/M, Multi, Pets, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 13:24:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarbleAide/pseuds/MarbleAide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom, one of four leaders in a gang-torn city, finds himself bored and the only obvious solution is to buy himself a new pet. The new pet seems promising, though Tom is not entirely sure what he is getting himself into when further information is revealed about the mysterious man and who he's connected to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ch-Ch-Chokechain

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to throw this up here so maybe I'll remember to update from now on. It'll get more violent and explicit as it grows and tags will be added accordingly for all of that plus new characters as well.

The shop wasn’t all that far away, just outside the Northern borders of Tom’s territory in No Man’s Land. A twenty minute drive, at best. A ‘shop’ wasn’t exactly the best term for it, but it sounded so much nicer than what it actually was. It was what people called it to make themselves feel better about visiting, buying, indulging. Anything to be able to push it back into their minds, because they weren’t terrible people. They couldn’t be. But, Tom knew better. He was one of them, after all. Though, that did not mean he didn’t have a conscious about it. 

Tom was sitting slumped in the back of the car, legs spread open and fingers tapping against the new leather of the seats, staring at the window with a crease in his brow. 

Benedict was watching him, listening to him sigh heavily and knew the gears in that curly head were turning just a little bit too hard. 

‘Honestly’, he thought, rolling his eyes when he knew Tom wouldn’t see. “You’re doing it again.” He muttered, flipping through the file folder in his hands.

Tom turned, giving Benedict a look that he couldn’t read fully as his eyes were hidden by round sunglasses, darkened and shaded to hide those blue orbs. But he could still see his eyebrow quirk up and he has known Tom long enough that he can guess the rest of the expression. He held his breathe, waiting for the response he knew was coming.

“I just…I hate going to this place. It’s so…” Tom waved a hand in the air, trying to find the right word. “…depressing.”

Benedict simply scoffed, turning his gaze back down at the file in hand. “We go through this every time. This is the nicest ‘shop’ within city limits. You’ve been going on and on all week about how bored you are, so the obvious conclusion is to get you a new pet.” Benedict’s jaw tightened ever so slightly at the use of the last word, pausing for just a breaths length before continuing on, never once looking back up at Tom. “Besides, you’ll be doing someone a favor. Anyone should be happy to be taken into your care.”

Tom turned fully towards Benedict now, expression unreadable. “Do you really mean that?” His voice was even, steady, giving Benedict enough room to tell the truth.

Ben looked up for just a moment, meeting Tom’s hidden gaze before turning away, pretending to be too interested in the paperwork to devote much enthusiasm into the conversation. “You’re better than the other options.”

His hand twitched, wanting to reach up to his neck, knowing that the collar wasn’t there anymore, but still feeling the dig anyway. Before his body could move, he felt Tom’s hand cover his own, gripping softly to reassure him that everything was fine, which was stupid because he knew it was. 

He stole his hand away.

 

Benedict always hated how Tom could read him so well.

\---

The shop was clean enough to be just above the legal standard, though the smell of it was still too strong; thick enough to stay in your nose and strong enough that you could taste it on your tongue. It was a horrible mix of dirt, sweat, old clothing and what Tom tried to ignore but always knew better, blood. At least it didn’t smell like hay, he always had to remind himself when the little bell chimed their entrance, as hay signified much lower standards. 

The shop was empty except for Tom, Benedict, and a single guard (Tom always argued about that, but Ben always seemed to win those arguments), an arrangement that was always made whenever Tom went anywhere outside his own territory. He knew it was for safety reasons, but standing in the front of an all too quiet shop set his nerves on end. There was not a sound from the back, which gave Tom the hint that the owner sound proofed the doors so no unpleasant noises could be heard from out front, which he still couldn’t decide if he liked or not. 

“Sorry, sorry!” A voice called out, followed close by the man it came from. He was short and pudgy, with eyes that darted about too often, back and forth between the three men standing in the room. He wore the green arm band with the black stripe that indicated his trading status. His hands clenched and relaxed continuously by his side, a nervous habit. “Last minute touchups. Your reservation was a bit…last minute.” He looked from the guard to Tom, not quite meeting his eyes, and gave a smile. “So, please, forgive any messes about, though I do try to keep a clean, tight, trade. I really am honored that you would choose my small establishment to—“ 

“Yes, and I have a schedule to keep.” Tom interrupted, finding his patience wearing thin the longer he stood still in this place. He didn’t dare look at Benedict, knowing he wouldn’t like what he saw. Even with Tom’s claim of ownership more than a year ago and his recent free status, there were some behaviors that were conditioned too deep. Tom kept his gaze straight. “And I would very much like to proceed with the matter at hand.” 

The owner blinked once before bowing slightly, nodding his head and apologizing profusely, all the while keeping his shifting gaze close to the gun hanging at the guard’s hip. “Of course, of course, please follow me.” He gestured for them to follow him into the back where the ‘goods’ were kept. 

Benedict made a move to follow, but Tom quickly grabbed him by the arm to hold him back. 

“Ben, you can stay out here, if you want.” Tom said as quietly as he could, looking at the other male for the first time since they entered, seeing his down cast eyes and how tense his body felt under Tom’s touch. “You don’t have go back there.” 

There was a moment of hesitation, in which Tom could feel the uncertainty radiating off of Ben’s body, but the moment passed quickly and soon enough Ben was looking Tom in the eyes and shrugged off Tom’s hand. “It’s fine.” He said, trying to sound like those were the words he really did mean to say, but Tom could still hear the tightness in his voice. “Not like I have to worry about…this anymore.” 

By ‘this’ he knew Ben was talking about being shackled and collared and taken away again, but Tom said nothing about that, didn’t attempt to reassure Benedict that it would never happen again. Instead he only smiled, patted Ben’s shoulder and muttered ‘Let’s go’ before leading the way into the back of the shop. 

When the owner unlocked and pulled the door open, Tom was bombarded with the scent of being in a trading shop two fold along with the sounds that accompanied it down the small hallway. There came cried and whimpers of what Tom could only classify as pain and discomfort. There were little voices that tried to stay as silent as possible, praying to whoever they believed and talking back and forth between bars. It all became even more hushed when the door closed behind them and Tom could hear the contents of the cages shifting around, some moving back and some moving forward to peer out at the new people.

Tom attempted to keep as relaxed as possible, for both the ‘pets’ sake and Benedict’s own as he could see his eyes had fallen once more, staring at the concrete floor. In contrast, Tom kept his head high and followed behind the shop owner, taking quick looks at the forms of bodies in the various cages that they passed, faces of both men and woman ages ranging between young children to elderly. They all appeared in different states of cleanliness and Tom could judge their mindset by the way they looked at him, what sort of spark stared back at him or the lack of it. Some of them wore clothing and some did not, but each and every one of them had a leather collar around their throat. 

“As you can see, we have a wide variety of selection.” The owner gestured towards the people as they walked down the hallway. “What are you looking for? Someone like you…a pretty little thing, perhaps? Something young?” The way this man spoke made Tom’s nose curl and the urge to call upon his guard rose, but he knew better. As much as he disliked it, this was how things were. He did not approve, but he still participated and Tom hated his own hypocrisy in that sense. Some things just couldn’t be helped. 

“I’m looking for something of a challenge.” Tom piped in before the owner could gain another word. “Gender isn’t important and I’d prefer an age range between twenty and thirty. Somebody healthy. Previous ownership isn’t an issue.” 

There was a moment of thought that passed over the man’s eyes, his nervous fingers tapped against his chin as he ran through the list of what he had, looking every once in a while at the cages. “I think…” He took another second of pause before a toothy little smile broke out over his features. “I think I have just what you’re looking for!” He clapped his hands and turned to quickly walk down the hall. “Follow me, follow me, he’s in the last row here! Just got him in about a week ago—nasty thing.”

 

Tom gave Ben a curious look over his shoulder, but the look wasn’t returned and Tom gave up with a sigh, simply following along without argument. The sooner they got out of here, the better. 

The cages grew emptier as they went down, with most of the stock being held up at the front. Where some of the cells would hold two or three people, these held a single person or none at all, which told Tom these were where the less ‘flattering’ pets were kept. They were led down to the very last cage in the hall. The lighting was dimmer down here, the fixtures over head needing new bulbs and there were no tiny windows carved into the walls like the front of the holding area had. Here it was darker, damp, and smelled much heavier of blood. 

The small party stood at the locked door of the cage, staring in at the large form sitting in the far corner, staring up at the ceiling. It was a male, broad in the shoulders with muscled arms and chest, leading down to a narrow waist. He wore only a dirty, ripped up pair of pants that looked to be too small. His hair was longer and blond, though Tom couldn’t tell the proper shade from the dark lighting and the dirt that clumped within it. From this angle, Tom could not see the man’s eyes and he made no move to change that at all. He had bruises patterned across his chest and the distinct mark of cuffs that were just beginning to fade from his wrists. Tom could make out a few cuts here and there, but could not clearly identify were the strong smell of blood was coming from.

“This has been our greatest challenge these past few days.” The owner began with his crooked smile, shifting a foot more away from the bars and well out of the man within’s reach. “Stubborn as a mule and strong as well, he’s perfectly shaped for work or, if it strikes your fancy, pleasure.” There was a little bit of a laugh thrown Tom way, but he kept a straight face and cleared his throat, indicating that the owner should move on. “Yes, well, he would be good with whatever you would need him for—but he does have to be broken first.”

“Is that why he has the bruises? You’ve had to punish him before?” Tom asked, taking a step closer to peer inside, trying to get a better look at the pet. 

“Yes, well…” The man cleared his throat, the smile falling from his face to be replaced by his previous nervous demeanor. “As I said, he’s stubborn. Doesn’t like people touching him. Barely moves. He doesn’t lash out unless provoked, but sometimes we do find the need to show him his place.” 

“Has he had a previous owner then?” Tom asked, curious. 

At this question, the owner hesitating, looking back and forth between Tom and the man within the cage. He swallowed before continuing. “…it appears that he did have another owner, but he wasn’t given away. He was found on the streets—“

“You took him off the streets?” Tom’s eyes went wide, hands curls at his sides and the guard right behind him stiffened with Benedict flinching with the tone of Tom’s voicing, knowing what his temper could hold. The only reason he would have been on the streets was if he escaped from his owner somehow, which by law meant that upon being found he should have been swiftly returned to whatever name was on his tags. 

The shop owner clearly knew this by the way his entire body went stiff when he could sense Tom’s own anger rising up, words stumbling over one another as he tried to explain. “No—I mean—you see he was found! Without any collar or tags or anything! There was no report of a slave gone missing or escaped, nobody has come to claim him even though—I have asked around and—it’s just...he did have a previous owner. It’s just…he…” 

“He has a brand.” Benedict’s voice cut through the air, making Tom turn back to look at him, confused for just a moment. Ben’s head was still held low and there was a second before he spoke again, as if to make sure he wasn’t stepping out of place. “His…his foot, Sir.” He looked up ever so slightly, nodding towards the cage. “The heel.” 

Tom’s attention snapped back to the man sitting in the cage. He stepped forward, only a few inches away from the bars now as he knelt down. With his movements, the man shifted as well, pulling his legs up closer to himself, attempting to hide in the shadows at the back of his cell.

“Show me your foot.” Tom asked softly, trying to get a better look, but there was no way he could do so with the other male attempting to hide away from him. His eyes did, however, catch the smear of blood that was left on the cement floor when the slave pulled his foot back against his body which gave Tom the answer to where the smell was coming from.

He turned to look back at the shop owner when he realized his command would go unanswered. “Is it fresh?”

“No.” The owner said sharply, quickly, trying to protect himself. The only ones able to brand other’s within the city were those that held a high level of power or land, which meant territory leaders, and then there were only four of them in the city. Even then, Tom was not aware of any of the leaders—including himself—that would let branded property simply get away. “The brand itself has healed. When we found him, the brand was obscured by…cuts. We later concluded that they were self-inflicted when we caught him digging into the brand with a piece of scrap metal, hence the blood all over his cell floor. Though we have tried, he won’t let us treat it.”

A good enough excuse, Tom nodded at this before turning back to the contents of the cage. It wasn’t uncommon for slaves and pets to disagree with their brand and want to get rid of it, though it did indicate that the leader who branded him was specifically doing it because he was a slave to show who he was claimed by—which meant the only two previous owners were Michael or—

“Show me your foot.” Tom said again, this time gaining a more demanding tone, which was returned with more silence and the man ignoring him. Tom growled. “Does he have a name?” He barked at the owner behind him, not once taking his eyes off the figure in the shadows.

“Ah—no, no, not that we are aware of. He hasn’t spoken much since—“

“Your foot!” Tom called, louder, his hands shooting out to grip the bars. “I order you to show me your brand!” 

A silence fell over the group of men, holding in the air thick for a long minute. No one dared to move in the room, though Tom could feel the tension rising from all three men at his back. None of them mattered now, as all his focus was on the man in front of him, five feet away sitting on a cold floor in defiance. Tom was just about to ask once more, his patience ready to break, when the slave’s head fell and his eyes came down from staring at the ceiling. He was taken back for a moment by their color, a sharp piercing blue that contained a bright spark that Tom could only classify as disobedience, and there was also something soft behind them, something that made him want to continue looking to find it.

“Would it matter at all?” The voice came in an accent that was foreign and caught in Tom’s ears, cutting into his memory as gruff from not being used and rough treatment, but so very warm. 

Slowly, Tom took a breath and nodded. “To me, it does.” He answered, moving from the man’s eyes down to his foot. When there came no further move to show him, Tom quickly looked back up into those blue eyes and found them narrowed back at him. His interest perked up.

“I’m doing this because I want to, not because you commanded it of me.”

Tom kept his mouth closed, nodding once more even if he wanted to object. ‘It won’t be like that for long, darling.’

A grunt, and the slave lifted his foot up, holding back the wince Tom could see twitching in his face. His eyes came to look at the heel which was open and bloody, though the flow had stopped. Gashes criss-crossed the skin, which was a red, indicating to Tom it was because of infection. He couldn’t tell how deep the cuts were, but knew they needed to be treated. Even through the mess of injury, Tom could just make out the combined lettering, the curve of a ‘D’ and—

“I want him.” Tom found himself saying softly, only to himself at first before he blinked and looked back, standing at his feet. “I’ll take him.” He said, louder and gave the owner a quick smile when he saw the man open his mouth in protest. “You showcased him for sale and that’s exactly what I indent to do; I’ll buy him.”

“But, Sir, I mean—we haven’t even discussed pricing or—“

“He has been previously owned, which will cut the price nearly in half, though I am aware he has caused you a decent amount of trouble. He is damaged and isn’t broken in yet—“ Tom looked back over his shoulder as his soon-to-be pet and grinned when he saw the man give him a glare and stole his foot back to hide underneath himself. “I’ll pay no more then what he would be worth if in good health. If he loses his foot before I can help it, I’ll be back to take the loss of it out from you.”

“But—“

Tom wasn’t listening, already moving back down the hall with his guard and Benedict in toe, the shop owner stumbling along behind. “I’ll also take two more to cover any lose of your own, Ben please pick out whoever you think might look good—“

“Yes, Sir.”

“—and get the paper work for me to sign at dinner tonight. I want all three showered and dressed upon their arrival, making sure the two have good accommodations and place them were you think will be appropriate—“

“Yes, Sir.” 

“As for my new pet, I want his foot looked at and taken care of. Have the usual room made up and a collar prepared. I’d also like you to give Michael a call to see if he could join us for dinner—“

Tom had to stop walking at this, knowing Benedict would have stopped behind him and gave him a look just like the one he was giving right now that showed a variety of confusion and concern as he began to take notes within the folders that he had clutched in his hands since their departure from the car.

“Sir, I…I don’t think it’s wise to have both the Brothers for dinner as well as Michael.”

Tom simply gave the other a smile, loving how Ben’s demeanor could change so quickly when Tom could get his mind focused on other matters, especially when they concerned Tom himself.

“Nonsense, I want Michael to take a look at my new pet and the best time to do that would be during dinner, and seeing as Jared and Jensen will be coming anyway—“

“Sir! This isn’t good, you know how they feel about slavery and with Michael being there—“

At this, Tom had to laugh, which got Ben to shut up and look up from his papers and notes. Tom moved closer, placing a hand upon Benedict’s shoulder and squeezed it gently for reassurance.

“You really do need to relax sometimes.” He could feel Ben doing just that under his hand, letting out a soft sigh. “Good. I promise you, everything will be fine, Ben. It’s just the Brothers. When have I ever steered you wrong?”

Ben didn’t answer that, he never answered that. He didn’t have to. The answer was always the same.

He took in a steady breath and let his gaze fall, Tom smiled softly back at him, moving to pat his cheek.

“Excellent.”

Before the touch could turn into anything further, Tom moved away and out the door that lead back into the front of the shop and soon enough out the doors to his car waiting for him on the street. 

“It’ll be great!” 

Even with Tom’s word, Ben still doubted that.


End file.
